The Things You Know
by Garnetcorvid
Summary: Post Grave Danger. Will the new, troubled, and darker Nick ever be like the old one again? Will he live or die? FINISHED! Please tell me what you think and review. Rated M for language and Sexual Content. Snuggles/SoNic
1. The Face

How cliché to contemplate the meaning of life. Nick realized that there is no meaning, because one isn't really in control of their lives, your life is not in your hands, no matter how cocky or determined you may be. Your life is in the hands of everyone around you, and the same goes for all of them. At any moment he could just walk up to someone and snap their neck, no one realizes how much power they actually wield over everyone around them's lives, but most important, how much they wield over yours.

He didn't like having such control and yet, not having any at all. He use to know what he wanted, he use to know where he was going, and he use to be sure of everything in his life because he ran it and no one else.

"Bullshit," he spoke to himself. He was sitting in his Chevy just before shift started, like he seemed to be doing a lot lately. Taking time to put on the face. It was hard for him to remember what he use to be like. Really hard nowadays to replace this face he had now with one he actually use to own. He didn't remember, couldn't if he wanted to, that face seemed lifetimes ago.

Suddenly a loud rap on the window made him jump hard.

"What are you doing?"

Her voice slightly muffled by the window between them. Catherine surely didn't go for the gentle approach.

"Contemplating life."

He found himself being rather blunt about his answers as of late. He tried his best to seem like life was ok, but when asked questions like "how are you," or "what you been up to?" he seemed to blurt out whatever came to mind, leaving the inquirer either staring blankly at him or just changing the subject rapidly. No one seemed to actually want to be derailed from the fantasy that they lived. The one where they had control. Nicks answers seemed too real for anyone to comprehend. But Cath, she actually listened, and didn't try to change the subject or act like she didn't hear him.

Even so, she still didn't get it. She never would, no one would, not here anyway. Since he wasn't gonna leave here, he would just keep sitting in his car before work trying to sift through the files in his cabinet and find his face.

"That's a big subject Nicky, maybe we should take a crack at it after work, yer gonna be late."

He glanced at his watch; it was 10 minutes before shift.

"I know what yer thinking…you know Grissom says early is on time and on time is late."

"Yeah yeah, I hear ya, step aside so I can get out."

He found it right before he walked in the door, the face, and not a moment too soon.


	2. Mystery Man

"I've had a great time tonight; I don't think I've ever met a guy who still believes in opening a door for a girl."

Nick smiled his charming toothy smile. He never did understand all the fuss over chivalry, it wasn't that hard, and even if he wasn't brought up to practice the age old rituals, he would probably do it anyway. Why was it such a far cry for men around here? Even going through what he did, he still had the touch.

_Not like I use to_, he thought to himself, _she may not know, but I d_o.

She was very beautiful, but he doubted he'd remember her name after tonight. He'd been running through them like traffic lights. Tall, dark hair, silky skin, big beautiful doe eyes, none of them had a clue. And that's the way he liked it, he liked them oblivious to who he was. He found himself craving company, but not the knowing looks and whispers. With these girls he could get what he needed, comfort, passion, the ability to feel something, anything. But with them he didn't have to pretend to be the old Nick because they didn't know the old Nick.

They thought he was mysterious and dark. He tried to act like some guy out of a romance novel. Some dark knight come to take them to some far off place if only for one night. He strived to be the guy they compared all other guys to. They would never know that he use to be carefree and goofy, fun loving and shy, someone who thought that when you were with a woman you stuck with that woman, not someone who gets what they need and then disappears like death in the night.

He actually told one girl, Trisha, he remembered her name, because she was the only person he actually talked to about it besides a therapist.

"I was kidnapped, and buried alive, left to die, I almost killed myself, I cried like a bitch and was so useless I couldn't save myself, I had to lay there suffocating in the dirt being chewed on by ants crying waiting for someone to save me. That's who I am."

Trisha had stared at him with a blank look on her face. A single tear fell from a darkly lined blue eye.

"Don't wanna fuck me now do you." He spat bluntly.

He saw Trish two other times after that, thought he had something going with her for a while, until she was killed in five car pile up on some interstate on her way to god knew where. It was then that he decided to never tell anyone about it again. He decided that he liked the comfort Trish gave him, but not the attachment. So he made up another Nick, to go along with all the other ones he had running around in his head.

This girl's name was Brandy, or Mandy, no it was Andy. Andrea, Andy for short.

"You wanna come in for a drink?"

The all encompassing question yes means meaningless small talk that ends in marathon sex that concludes in a stealthy escape. No "ill call you." No matter what he had become he still wouldn't tell such a bold lie.

"Of course I would."

She smiled a smile almost as big as his, then climbed out of the Chevy and sauntered up to her door glancing back at him with a look that screamed, maul me. Shutting and locking the door Nick smoothed his short black hair, set his strong jaw and smiled on the inside. _No small talk tonight,_ and with that thought he followed his prey into the dark house.


	3. Sophie

4-19's all around. Nick was put with Sophie this time. He was use to always having someone with him in the past, Grissom always believing that he wasn't ready to be alone. Toward the end there (the end of the old Nick) he had been letting up a little, but now it was back to basics again.

Grissom seemed to rotate the team on who was put on Stokes watch next. Last time it was Warrick. He thought somewhere in the back of his mind he should be offended that Gil was treating him like he needed a babysitter again. Only this time he wasnt, and even if he was offended, he wanted a babysitter.

He didn't want to be left alone anymore. Another thing that changed after the old Nick died.

"What are the specs," he asked Grissom taking the white slip of paper from his supervisor.

"Lovers quarrel we suspect, Caucasian male shot two times in the stomach and bled out while waiting for the paramedics. A rather battered girlfriend called it in."

Nick shook his head. _Guess she figured out that she had the control. _He thought to himself.

"Sounds more like self defense," Nick added.

"Well that's what you're going to find out. You and Sophie take your time on this, there's no rush on this one."

The ride to the scene was a quiet one. Usually Nick would take this time with Sophie to flirt and make small talk; he had a soft spot for the blonde. But every moment of silence for Nick was a moment to gather himself. He rarely started a conversation anymore.

"I miss you ya know."

Nick's cut her a glance, slight confusion playing on his face.

"I'm right here, not going anywhere." He smiled, even if it was fake, it was still beautiful.

"No you aren't, you haven't been here for a while now."

He sighed, it was true, no use acting like it wasn't. Maybe she wasn't the only one, if Sophie could tell, maybe they all could, and maybe he wasn't doing a very good job at pretending after all.

"I use to wake up, get ready for work, and I'd think to myself, what will Nick say to make me laugh today." She paused and studied the dash board, watching the street lights roll over the leather contemplating her next words.

"It may sound silly, you know me I'm a pretty serious person, but, I feel really helpless when I catch you blanking out, every time you do you give up just a little bit more, and if you aren't strong enough then I certainly can't be."

There it was, someone finally relinquished their control, and he wasn't alone. He clenched his squared jaw and focused extra hard on the road. Sophie was a great friend, a knockout and an excellent detective. He wanted to find something to say, something to make it better for her like he use to. He knew she had problems, he use to give her a pat on the back and tell her it'll be ok, and then make some stupid remark that would have her laughing. _I'm letting her down; I'm letting them all down_.

"I heard ya Soph, I hear you loud and clear, lets get a drink after this and we can talk properly, but right now I just need to focus on this." He laid on his accent, hoping it would sate her enough to get through this assignment.

They pulled up to the crime scene, a couple of cop cars in front of the house, a police officer talking to a woman in jeans and a tank top, probably the shooter, a uniform standing guard outside the door waiting for them to survey the scene. It was so damn cookie cutter. He knew it would be her word against the evidence. This was gonna be an in and out thing.

Usually he would talk to the suspect in these kinds of domestic cases with compassion and understanding, listening to her story of how he was beating the shit out of her and she had had enough and ended it. He use to actually mean the comfort coming from his voice, but nowadays he found himself laying that Texas drawl on thick in order to gain their trust and get some truth. Grissom had always been right, people lie and the more you sympathize with them the easier it is for them to pull that lie right over your eyes and blind you with it.

Something no one would know was that he was scared that one day he would roll up on a scene and one of the many girls he fucked would be waiting there for him, either the victim or the suspect. He was building up a rather lengthy rap sheet of names. It had happened to him once before. Kristy Hopkins could have been something, just like Trish, and back when he was goofy shy Nick, he was sad when she died and only apprehensive because he was a suspect and may have lost his job. But now he was afraid for another reason, afraid that one of the girls would give him away, tell on him, expose him, and make him face the truth. This girl wasn't one of them, and the paranoia knot in his chest ebbed.

_I hate looking over my shoulder, I hate always trying to cover my tracks, I hate myself, I hate everyone around me, I hate them for what they could do to me. I hate._


	4. The Lion and the Gazelle

"You call this getting a drink?" Sophia asked jokingly.

They were sitting in his SUV, she was sipping on a Cherry Coke and he was nursing bottled water that he bought at a convenience store on the way back from the scene.

"We should probably get back to the lab; we do have some considerable evidence to process." She studied him, waiting for a response.

"Grissom told me to take my time with this one; it wasn't a priority case, so we've got all the time in the world."

She let out a nervous laugh. He could tell she was getting slightly uncomfortable; she had begun twisting the cap to her coke on and off and tried not look at him for more than a few seconds.

_She really is beautiful_, he thought to himself, _and that's exactly why I'm going to feed her some really cheesy bullshit that sounds like I'm opening up, but in actuality she'll get nothing from me and thus, stay beautiful and untouched by my fuck ups. _

He smiled that charming handsome smile to put her at ease.

"I know you think something is wrong with me, I really appreciate that you worry, that all of you do, I know you do," he paused searching for the right thing to say. "its just, instead of being oblivious to my surroundings, I'm more aware, I think about things more, I see more, and sometimes it makes everyone feel like I'm distant. It's because of who I use to be ya know? It's because I use to be carefree that this change, I believe is for the better, seems so, different, maybe negative to you guys."

God did he know how to spin complete crap.

She was staring at him now, her mouth open slightly, concern and, was it love in her eyes? He guessed it could have been, in some friendly way.

"I want you to be happy again, that is, we want you to be happy Nick, you were a lot of the life in the team, and we just don't want you becoming jaded like the rest of us."

She said the last part with a smile and a lofty tone, as if to try and poke fun at how serious she and the rest of the team were. She was trying to break in; she'd have to try a hell of a lot harder he thought.

"You got a point there." He said laughingly in response, trying his hardest to make this all seem like it wasn't the big deal it was.

"I use to make fun of Sara so bad, she was always such a stick in the mud." They laughed together now, but what Sophie didn't know was that he meant to say she was always such a bitch. "I know what you mean Sophia," he never said her full name before, he decided he like how it felt on his tongue.

"I know that ya'll are worried, but you don't have to be, I'll try extra hard to make an ass of myself for you guys on a daily basis." He said with a very large grin. He was trying to take a stab at joking; he didn't really know how well it was going though.

Then he did something that his mind hadn't told him to do, he reached across the console and placed his large calloused hand on her small frail one. The action elicited a response in him that he hadn't felt in a long time. Excitement. Sophia looked down at his hand, trying to decide weather it was just a friendly comforting gesture, or something more. She looked back up to see Nick staring at her intensely; she had been avoiding it all night, the ever dreadful eye lock.

"What are you thinking, right this second?" He asked, in a deeper tone now, not as playful and carefree as it was just seconds ago.

She opened her mouth to speak, frantically trying to think of something to say that was nonchalant and situation diffusing, but the only thing she could think to say was, "Scared." _It was honest at least_, he thought to himself.

"Scared of me? Or scared of what I might do, or maybe scared of what you might do."

He didn't know what he way saying, it was just spilling out of his mouth at an alarmingly involuntary rate. What was he doing? Sophie wasn't like one of them, she wasn't a plaything, she was real, and she wouldn't go away if God forbid what was running through his very fucked up mind, happened. She would be there the next day. She wouldn't disappear like the rest of them did. And unlike the rest of them, she knew him, she knew it all and he couldn't hide from her.

He had worked very hard to spin that bullshit story about him_, being better_, and he wasn't going to fuck that up now. It was that final kick in the mental ass that prompted him to remove his hand slowly and face forward. He let out a long drawn out breath and smoothed his hair. A really annoying tick he picked up lately. He'd add that to the ever growing list of other really annoying things he'd been doing lately, like putting his coworkers in really awkward and inappropriate situations.

"Soph, I'm really sorry, I don't know what that was all about, I can't begin to ask you to forgive me, and you don't deserve that kind of grief."

He was swiftly reverting back to the chivalrous cowboy hoping to the dear Lord that it worked. She was still staring at him. All the color was drained from her beautiful face.

Alarms were going off in his head, it was all over and he knew it, she'd tell everyone at the lab what a freak show he really was and things would get progressively worse than they already were if that were humanly possible.

She swallowed hard.

"Nick," she paused, "Nick I don't blame you for anything, its ok really, considering what you've been through I don't think I could handle it as well as you have, I don't think I would have even gone back to work."

She made sure she worded her next sentence carefully, "You may not be as cheerful as you once were, but all this has shown me how strong you are. Honestly I _was_ scared of myself. I was scared I would take advantage of you in the state you're in."

_WHAT?! _His mind screamed, _you take advantage of me? That's like a gazelle saying, don't be afraid to a lion. _

She smiled warmly and almost considered placing her hand on _his_ this time, but decided against it. They'd both had had enough for the night, it was time to head back to the lab and focus on other things before they both did something they regretted.

"Thanks Sophie."

That was the last word either of them said. With that Nick started the vehicle and they drove silently back to the lab. He decided he would stay at home for the next couple of nights and forego is newly acquired past time. He'd had enough diversion to last him for the next few days.

What he didn't bank on was what that solitude was going to do with his newly found mixed feelings about Sophia, or those diverse thoughts.


	5. Shoot The Shit

He was blanking out again. But instead of waging a war with himself and, well, himself; he was fighting one against foreign thoughts. At least it was a change, he thought to himself, new demons mixing things up a bit. He smiled and laughed to himself alone in the break room.

"What's funny Nick?" Grissom asked popping his head around the corner.

Startled, as if caught doing something naughty, he scrambled to recover. "Ah, not a thing really, just going over days events." He smiled that ever so charming smile.

"Well, Sophia is waiting in the lab; she said you guys had something to show me?"

"Well yeah, it's nothing major, just a demonstration of that domestic shooting the other night."

Grissom eyed him knowingly. "Come on lets get going, I love the theatre you know."

They smiled at one another. Grissom was one person he definitely could not be angry at, he was the one who found him, _well Sara knew where I was, but he was the one there holding my hand, promising it would be alright, pulling me out of Hell, rescuing me from the dark, from death._ He did promise it would be alright, but even though Grissom was "the almighty all knowing supervisor" he was still just human. It definitely was not alright. It was very much all wrong. But it wasn't his fault. He didn't blame anyone but himself. How fucked up was that?

It was a short walk to the lab, a large brightly backlit table in the middle of the room, and Sophia standing on one side of it. She was leaning up against the wall arms at her sides, long golden hair sweeping over her shoulders. Button up white collar shirt. He found himself counting each button from bottom to top. He stopped when he reached her eyes, eyes that were knowingly looking at his.

"So what did you guys find out?" Grissom asked, holding a file folder in his arms and leaning back on the opposite wall.

Nick jerked his gaze away and focused on the task at hand.

"Well, the actual scene was very small, the rest of the living room where the altercation took place was completely unharmed save for an end table and a lamp. Imagine this wall is part of the house, Sophia will play the shooter."

"And you'll be the aggressive boyfriend?" Gil finished for him.

Nick smiled "yeah I guess so."

"Now, what we are trying to understand is that if it was such a large fight and the shooter says she was "knocked all around the house and had to make a mad dash for the gun" why was nothing but the table and the lamp on it disturbed. The gun was supposedly in the bedroom nightstand, but absolutely nothing was touched save for this area." Sophia gestured toward the wall around her.

"This is what we think happened." Nick finished before taking his place in front of her.

"We believe she was indeed struck across the right side of her face." He mocked like he was hitting Sophia and she snapped her head to the left. "Blood spatter and saliva that matches the Vic, or rather the shooter was found sprayed on this wall to her left consistent with her height." He gestured to the wall next to Sophia's mouth.

"As well as ligature marks on the males knuckles. They were fresh and bleeding indicating he broke the skin on her teeth as he was rounding out the punch." Sophia added.

"Then," Nick continued, "we found a right hand print in the blood from the Vic, I'm sorry; I mean shooters mouth and a left one on the clean part of the wall on the other side of her head, as if the male did this."

He placed his hands on the wall on either side of Sophia's head; she was looking up at him with slight terror in her eyes, either from playing the role, or from his extremely close proximity.

"We believe," his voice dropped as he leaned in closer to her, "that he then cornered her and taunted her," he let his gaze fall on her mouth.

Sophia swallowed hard, "It's at this time we suspect that she brandished the firearm that she had tucked into the rear of her pants and pointed it at him like this." She made her hands into a mock gun and placed her finger tips on Nick's alarmingly hard stomach. All the air left her lungs.

"She then shot the Vic in the stomach once, he grabbed himself we believe judging by the amount of blood on his hands, dropped to his knees and then slumped over rolling on his back." Nick mocked like he had been shot and then laid on his back looking up at Sophia.

"It was then that she stood over his body like this," she stepped over him, one foot on either side of him. "And then shot him again from here, the trajectory of the bullet was at an angle this time instead of straight on like the first point blank shot. Plus we found the bullet in the floor underneath the body."

"So what you're saying is that it was premeditated, and not self defense like you thought Nick?"

Nick smiled as he got up off the floor, gently brushing against Sophia's leg.

"You know me Gris, always thinking the best of everyone." He was lying through those beautifully perfect teeth.

"All the evidence corroborates that she concealed the gun, waiting on the inevitable. With the size of the first wound along with the GSR on his and her shirt, it's impossible that she didn't have the gun on her the whole time."

"Well," Grissom said with a smile, "you guys did an excellent job, as usual; all that's left is to give it to the DA and let him run from there." With that he nodded to them both and began to exit the lab, hesitating for a moment to tell Nick to come by his office at some point in the evening.

There was an awkward silence. It was the first time in a few days that he had been alone in the same room with her. He'd been warring with himself alright, on what he would do or say to her when a moment like this happened next. A whole array of things ran through his head. Some particularly wicked to say the least, like grabbing Sophia by the waist and shoving her into the evidence locker, taking her by the mouth and promptly ripping all her clothes off and…………_STOP IT! _He screamed to himself on the inside.

"How've you been?" she asked in that slightly accented lilt of hers.

"I could be better," he responded. There it was again, that candid honestly to questions like that, it was his one downfall, the one thing that countered the face. _How are people supposed to believe you're ok Stokes if you keep saying shit like that? _

"Really though I'm good, I'm kinda disappointed that I'll not be working with you on my next case." He stared at the ground while saying this. He was genuinely disappointed.

"Why's that?" she inquired.

"You haven't noticed? Grissom likes to rotate who's on Nick watch, I'll probably be with Sara next."

She didn't say anything, just looked at him with pity, God he hated that pity look, no matter who it came from.

"I'll talk to him; I don't think it should be that way. You're a great CSI Nick, you don't need to be passed around." She started for Grissom's office.

"Sophia you don't have to do that, it's not your problem, I don't want to put you in a situation." These words rang true. He was surprised, not many of them did.

"No, it's not a problem really Nick, I enjoy working with you, I think we make a great pair, in the _field_." She added that last part as if to counter some thought she was having that was contrary to a professional pair. He caught it, and he honestly didn't think that he needed to be alone with her anymore than he had to, but he wasn't going to stop her from talking to Grissom.

That little moment they had during the demonstration, if you could call it that, was full of tension. Her touch, even though it was small and totally innocent, tested his reserve to the fullest extent. He needed to interact with another CSI, someone that he wouldn't want to fuck. _Where's Warrick?_ he asked himself. He was supposed to be his best friend and all. They could take a few in the break room and shoot the shit.

He needed some companionship, _when do I not?_ He asked himself again. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts yet again. It was exhausting living in his head.


	6. Grissom

He found Warrick of no actual help. All he seemed to do was complain about his doomed marriage. _What the hell was he thinking? Why the hell did he ever get married?_ To Nick it was like saying "why yes I have 3 holes in my head, why not another?"

_You use to not think that, you use to be happy for the guy_.

He use to be and do a lot of things.

"Man I'm tellin' ya, this job is going to kill you guys' relationship if you keep letting it get in the way." What the hell did he know? He was just spinning more bullshit.

_Seem engaged in their problems and they will stay away from yours._

"I know I know, I just need some time off from the lab, some time with her, just us."

Nick nodded trying to seem interested while picking at his coffee cup. He didn't want coffee; he just got a cup for fucks sake, to have something to do with his hands.

"I hear ya, I really do, but listen I hafta go talk to Grissom, he asked me to come by his office and I've been putting it off long enough."

Warrick nodded, "yeah don't keep him waiting, ill be fine, thanks for listenin' man, I know you got my back, don't forget I got yours too."

It would have been fine, the whole conversation even the whiny parts, but damn if he didn't have to throw that reassurance bit in at the end. Everyone seemed to do that. Who the hell said it was an obligation? He'd like to know so he could punch them in the mouth.

"Yeah I know you do bro, I know you do." Biting back the screams, he confidently strode out of the break room and headed for Grissom's office. _What kind of goodies will he have for me today? _

"Sophia came to see me." Gil didn't even look up from whatever he happened to be reading as Nick walked into the dimly lit office and closed the door behind him.

"Really? What about?" He knew damn well what about.

"You think I pass you around to the others?" he looked up this time, inquiring.

Nick smiled, "those were her words, and I simply said that I was being rotated around so that no one person would have to be on Stokes watch more than once in a row."

He was such a smart ass.

Gil gently laid his papers down and removed his glasses. "I don't want you to feel like I'm trying to have you, _watched_, I feel that, you shouldn't be alone, I may be wrong but I think you don't want to be, and I want you to interact with everyone equally, as much for your benefit as the rest of the team's."

Nick hadn't seen it that way, but he had a point, and no he didn't want to be alone.

"I didn't see it that way," he paused, "I know you wouldn't lie to me Gris, I trust you; I guess I'm just trying to find something, some tangible reason to be pissed all the time. It's hard for me to be angry and not have something to be angry about."

Grissom furrowed his brow. "Nicky you have a lot to be angry about, you shouldn't have to try and find something."

"I know that, I just don't want to be angry about it anymore, I want something new to be mad at, I'm sorry Grissom I just, I don't know anymore."

It was some of the truth seeping out again. He seemed to be doing it a lot lately, letting the truth slip out here and there.

"Do you want to be partnered with Sophia more often than the others?" He laid it out there.

_YES YES I DO!!_ Something inside him screamed. _No you don't, not for the right reasons_, something else in him said back.

"I don't think it would be the best idea," Nick said candidly.

Grissom nodded, "I don't think it would be either."

Nick looked at him questioningly. "Why not?"

Gil shook his head, "I'm not blind Nicky I may be half deaf but I'm not blind. I saw that little, _moment_, you guys had, and I don't think it would be healthy to let something like that germinate."

_Fuckin hypocrite_! He fucked Sara! _Why the hell couldn't I mess around with Sophia?_

_Because he and Sara love each other asshole, you and Sophia don't, you would use her and break her and everything would fall apart_.

"You're right," he relinquished control. Had he ever had any anyway? "I'm sorry about all this, _drama_; you know it's not like me to make ripples."

"I know Nicky, just, try to take care of yourself, and try to spend some more time with the others."

Nick decided he didn't want to talk about it anymore, he thought it best to just agree and move on.

"I understand, thanks for everything Grissom. I think I'm going to go find Sophia and apologize." No he wasn't.

"That sounds like a great idea Nicky, shut the door on your way."

Nick nodded and swiftly got up and exited the room shutting the door gently behind him.


	7. Short Bus Special

How he had ended up in Sara's Denali with Greg in the back listening to some horrible punk music on the way to the same dive as usual, he couldn't remember. He blocked out most of what they were saying, every once in a while being jabbed in the shoulder by Greg when he'd make some joke that Nick didn't catch.

"Isn't that right Nick?" Greg asked enthusiastically.

"Sure," that was all Nick could say, he really didn't know what he was agreeing to.

"So you just agreed that the only things that come from Texas are steers and queers?"

Nick turned around and shot a very nasty look at Greg, Sara now cracking up.

"Hey it was a joke, I was just testing to see if you were listening, and you weren't so, yer bad!"

Nick faced forward. _Mouthy little punk_. He didn't really know when Greg had started getting on his nerves, but he knew that he was. He use to like Greg, think he got a bit of a bum rap for being so young. Nick had known what it was like struggling to be noticed. He use to sympathize with him, now all Nick wanted to do was deck the shit out of him.

"Nick, I'm really glad you decided to come out with us tonight, it's been a while, and we all missed your good humor." Sara stole glances at him while trying to drive.

"Well if Greg keeps it up I may just jump out right now." Greg and Sara laughed, thinking it was a joke, it so wasn't.

After finally getting everyone situated around a large enough table, they all ordered drinks.

Catherine had ice water, Greg a Pepsi, Sara a diet Pepsi, Warrick ice water with lemon and Nick sweet tea.

Catherine had been eyeing him. She knew his "dirty" little secret about sitting in his car before work. She called it that to make light of how serious it wasn't.

"So Nicky whatcha been up to?" Catherine decided to start the questions, the ones he knew were coming. Everyone stared at him waiting for his next words.

"Not much more than you guys, I work all night and sleep all day." It was the truth, albeit not the whole truth.

"No one special?" Greg asked. _Prying little prick_. _Calm down Nick he's just being him._

"If you mean short bus special then I've always got you Greggo." The whole table burst out laughing. He'd made a joke, the first one in months.

"Ha ha, very funny, you're just trying to skirt the fact that no one wants to date you." Greg spat, trying to recover from the embarrassment.

"Nice Greg, did your 12 year old sister teach you that one?" Laughter all around. He was trying to poke fun and not get serious. Some distant part of him wanted desperately for outings like this, and for them to be like they use to be with everyone sitting around and joking, mainly at Greg's expense.

Greg stuck his tongue out, going with the preschooler flow and poking fun at himself now.

Nick Stokes smiled a huge smile, his eyes squinting and lighting up, gentle laughter pouring from his mouth. It felt good.

It was bound to happen at some point.

"See now, I knew the old you was buried in there somewhere." Sara said over the frivolity.

Nick went statue still. It didn't offend him as much as it took him aback. Everyone went deathly quiet, staring at Nick from the corners of their eyes.

"Nick I, I'm so sorry I didn't mean…that is I didn't mean to…" Sara was stumbling over her words trying to find something to say but not the wrong thing yet again.

Nick smiled faintly, "It's ok Sara, pretend it didn't happen."

They all looked at one another trying to feel out if it was really ok. Then Catherine decided to open the flood gates.

"Pretend what Nicky, pretend she didn't say that, or pretend it didn't happen to you?"

_Why couldn't she have just kept her mouth shut, let it go, why couldn't they all just let it the fuck go?_

Nick clenched his strong jaw, muscles visibly flexing in his face. He sat up straighter.

"You'd think the way all of you carry on, that it was you in that box and not me." He paused trying to control his voice and temper. "You'd think that it was you trying to act like it were all normal, trying to piece together your lives after almost loosing it slowly and painfully."

They were all trying not to stare at him.

"We were in that box with you Nick," Warrick chimed in, "we all were, we were hurting and dying inside with every moment you were in there, we _are_ trying to act normal because we don't want you to feel like, like your alone."

"Bullshit!" he shouted, slamming his fist onto the table causing the silverware to clank and everyone to flinch. "You weren't in there, you were out here, and you knew that the next day you would still be alive, I don't need your sympathy and I don't need your help!" He was shouting and the whole restaurant was silent. It was then that he was painfully aware of Sophia Curtis' absence. He felt the desire in him to seek her comfort, some type of comfort, anything but this.

"Nick we care!" Catherine said with concern and tears in here eyes.

"That's the problem, you guys still care, but I don't." with that said he stood up abruptly disturbing the table and deftly left the diner. Before anyone could catch up to him he hailed a cab and escaped.

_What have I done?_ He asked himself, still clenching his jaw. _Now what the fuck am I going to do, I just blew my cover, I let them get to me, I let it all get to me, I didn't hide it. _

He hated himself.

The cab pulled up to his house and he exited tossing a 100 bill at the driver not looking back for change. He knew what he was going to do, something he hadn't done in a while.

He swiftly entered the house, if one could call it that since he rarely actually _lived_ in it, and changed his clothes. He put on a crisp white button up collared shirt, tucked it into a pair of snuggly fitting blue jeans, and smoothed his hair for the billionth time. After a long hard look in the mirror, he turned off the lights and set out to stalk some unsuspecting prey.


	8. Dying Inside

It didn't take long, it never did. But this time it was surprisingly easy, the first bar he went to he spotted one that he liked. She was alone of course, leggy and beautiful, weren't they all?

She was sitting alone, sipping some dark liquid, languidly tracing the rim of the glass with one long slender finger. Her short black spaghetti strapped dress riding up one milky thigh. But the feature he was noticing the most was her long straight silky blonde hair falling down her back.

She had been stealing glances at him all night; he was sitting in a booth in a dark corner surveying the place when his gaze halted on her. He drank her in almost as smoothly as his vodka. He was practically sprawled out in the seat he occupied. His legs open and his arms draped on the back of the seat. Every once in a while he would stir his drink. Finally after what seemed like a lifetime of unspoken words, she gracefully stood, laid a bill down on the bar, and without tearing her eyes away from Nick, strode out of the back of the bar, throwing him the loudest signals she could manage.

_Come get me_, she said without a word, _follow me, stalk me, I know you want me_.

The voice he heard in his head sounded surprisingly a lot like Sophia's. He shook it off and slid casually out of the booth, smoothing his hair yet again. And like a lion in the grass, he silently and swiftly went after his prey.

He pushed open the door to the back of the bar only to be grabbed abruptly by small slender hands that weaved their way into his hair, he felt a soft warm mouth crashing on his and before he knew it he had her pinned to the brick wall behind the bar. A street light about 10 yards away dimly lighting the scene. Hands were everywhere, on her hips, on his chest, roaming, searching for something to hold on to. He broke the embrace and stepped back a few steps. They looked at each other hard, sizing one another up. This was going to be fun.

In no time they were back at her place. _Not too shabby_, he thought, though he didn't give a flying fuck about what the place looked like. Before he knew it they were inside the pitch dark house, groping and kissing and even biting here and there. He followed her lead and they ended up in her bedroom.

He shoved her down on the bed, a small cry escape her lips, and he decided he would love to hear how those cries sounded at a much louder volume. He slowed down now, crawling up her, all the while peeling that skin tight dress up farther and farther, nipping and kissing the skin as it was revealed. She was panting now. Finally he was tired of torturing her; he wasn't in the mood this time. Usually he took his time with them, but he needed something, he didn't know what, but he needed it now.

With lightening quick speed he removed her undergarments and threw them into the consuming darkness of the room. His shirt had somehow been removed, he couldn't remember when. His jeans were around his knees, he stood and kicked them off and then resumed his position on the bed, between her legs that were draped over his. She sat up and ran her nails across his stone slab of a stomach, and with piercing blue eyes; she looked up at him and bit him hard above his navel.

He shouted, and then threaded his fingers through the back of her hair and yanked her head back. Pain shot through her face, but he had a feeling she didn't mind. He then flung her back down on the bed and before she could protest he was buried inside her.

It was a sharp swift motion. Her eyes went wide and her mouth opened in a silent scream. Oh yes, that was the face he was looking for. He began to pivot his hips, back and forth, in and out, it felt amazing, but there was still something that was missing. He sat up straight and without using his arms for leverage began to piston harder.

_Still not enough_, the voice inside him said.

He opened his eyes to see hers closed. "Open your eyes," he ordered in a deep commanding tone. She did. She looked straight into his and for a moment he thought she looked scared. Had she seen inside him? Had she seen that blackness he was always working so hard to hide?

Then he ran his large rough hands up her torso, all the while rocking back and forth at a steady pace. She was moaning loudly now. And it only fueled him further. His hands slid over her heaving chest and then he did something he didn't know he was doing. He began to caress her neck and then slowly his hands wrapped around her throat, gently at first, then tighter and tighter.

Those blue eyes that were misty with lust began to focus as she looked up with terror now at her use to be lover and now assailant. Her hands flew to his, grasping his wrists. He wasn't squeezing hard enough to kill her, just enough so that she would soon be dizzy with lack of oxygen.

"Believe me I know how it feels to not be able to breathe," he spat. She was bucking wildly now, and this only prompted him to slam into her harder and faster. He was squeezing at an alarming pressure now, all moans and sighs from her turned into deep gasps.

"Sophia!" he shouted, with the blonde beneath him flailing about, punching and clawing at him. "Sophia, fuck, Sophia goddamnit!" he screamed and then with one hard, bruising thrust he came inside the blonde, releasing his hands from around her tiny neck.

She gasped loudly and coughed so hard she threw up off to the side of her bed.

Nick climbed off the bed and slid his jeans on, then found his shirt and buttoned it up, not bothering to tuck it in this time. She was crying now, sobbing and holding her throat.

"I'm calling the fucking cops!" she tried to shout, but it came out in a pitchy rasp.

Nick laughed lightly, and smiled that Cheshire smile. "Darlin' I am the cops, who's side do you think they're gonna take?" he felt horrible; he didn't want to threaten her. She sobbed harder now. "Look," he dropped his tone to a soft smooth whisper, "I'm sorry for that, honestly that's not my regular cup of tea." He spoke this as he eased down on the bed beside her, careful to avoid the vomit. All the while she was shying away from him, covering herself with her white cotton bed sheets.

No woman had ever shied away from Nick Stokes, he felt deeply ashamed. "You just happened to have been in the wrong place at the very wrong time." She glared at him.

He stood, loomed over her shaking body for a moment, assessing the damage, clenching his jaw, then he turned and left the room, but not before flatly telling her "I'm sorry."

With that said he strode out of the house and climbed into his car. The drive home was a blur.

Before he knew it he was in his bathroom studying himself in the mirror. He had taken his shirt off and was surveying the marks. Scratches, some bleeding, and a bite mark here and there; he ran his fingers over them.

"You can't run away from this," he said tracing the marks, "you can't run away any more."

Tears welled up in his eyes. What had he become? He shut the lights off in the bathroom and stood there just a moment longer. Half his face shadowed in darkness and half bathed in moonlight that came from his bedroom. It was a funny thing, half of him was black, and the other that did have light, was lit by the dimmest almost non existent light there was.

He was being consumed.

As he lay in the bed staring at the ceiling, he cried, really cried. And with every tear that fell down his handsome face, he died a little more inside.


	9. Happier Times

PREFACE-- this whole chapter is a compilation of flashbacks to times when our boy Nick was happiest and giving those around him some of his courage and confidence. You'll notice that he has one with each member of the team. Just a friendly tip to avoid confusion! Thanks for reading!

--

Greg was beaming from ear to ear. He'd done it! He'd finally become a CSI! After the celebration had by all of the team had died down Greg found himself sitting outside breathing in the fresh night air.

"Heya Greggo!" Nick stepped outside and smiled warmly at his newest friend, taking a seat next to him on the bench.

"Hey Nick," Greg said with equal enthusiasm. Greg had come to think of Nick Stokes as a mentor, someone he could really relate to. To Greg, Nick was just an all around great guy.

"Man I remember what it was like getting that news, finally being able to get out in the field and into the heart of things." Nick's smile never faded.

"Does it ever go away?" Greg asked in a more serious tone.

Nick eyed him, he knew what he meant. Did the feeling ebb after all the time spent staring at death, touching it, dealing with all of the filth and depravity, being face to face with the ugly the world had to offer.

"No, no it's still there," he paused trying to find the right words, he didn't want Greg to feel like he'd bitten off more than he could chew, "sometimes, things get hard, sometimes they seem hopeless, I'm not gonna lie to ya, but at the end of the day, you know you did something right, you know that you did good."

Nick went back to smiling again; he honestly did feel that way. He felt proud of his job, and proud of every decision he'd made. Greg nodded and smiled.

"Nick I couldn't have gotten here without you, I mean, not to sound sappy or stupid," he glanced at Nick for approval.

"It's ok Greg, go on."

"Well, you were always there man, you always had my back, you always stood up for me, I look up to you ya know, I mean, don't go telling the team, but you were always the one I trusted most."

Nick's chest swelled with pride. Greg's words meant a lot to him, it felt damn good to know that someone trusted you; someone looked to you for answers.

"You know I'll always have yer back Greggo." The two sat in silence for a while and held on to that happy moment in time, not knowing when they'd get a chance for another.

--

"Hey Sara," Nick said brightly as she opened her door. Her face was red and her eyes were puffy, she had been crying, she had every right to have been.

"God, Nick what are you doing here?" she asked slightly annoyed and frantically wiping tears off her face.

"I just wanted to say hey and bring you this," he held up a six pack of beer and smiled, "I know I could use one."

She rolled her eyes and smiled faintly, "come in you dork, god you coulda called first."

They stood around the island in her kitchen waiting for the popcorn to finish popping, both nursing a beer.

"Sara, I don't wanna sound cliché, but you deserve better than that." He spoke bluntly; she always liked that about Nick, never minced words. She let out a sigh.

"Do I? I mean, what do I deserve? I thought I deserved Grissom but, apparently the fates won't allow it, and when I try someone my age, it backfires." She wasn't one to ride the pity train but damn it, this sucked. Either she picked someone emotionally "unavailable" or someone who cheated on her.

"What you deserve is someone who will treat you with respect and love, someone who won't lie to you, someone who will take care of you, no matter how old they are." He said that last part with a laugh.

She did deserve much better than she'd gotten, Nick seemed to be the only one who understood that. After all, she didn't see any of the others taking time out of their day off to comfort her.

"Nick, you're so good to me," she said with a smile, and then tears rolled down her face again.

In a moment he'd rounded the island and was holding her in his strong arms, telling her it would be all right. She finally stopped crying and looked up at him. His kind gentle eyes were staring down at her with compassion and concern.

"Thanks Nick, you're the best friend anyone could have." He released her and they smiled. "Now let's get this party started, Indiana Jones isn't gonna watch himself!" And with that they settled down for a friend's night in.

--

Catherine was troubled, when was she not these day's? Nick could see the stress writing volumes on her face.

"Hey, Cath," he said standing in the doorway next to the bench she'd been occupying for the past hour. She jumped, having been deeply lost in thought. "Damn Nick, you scared the crap outta me."

He smiled that charming toothy smile.

"What's eatin' ya?" he asked taking a seat next to her. He knew what was wrong, he just wanted to hear it from her, and she needed someone to unload on.

"Oh, lord, what's not?" she sighed, "Nick, I think my dad killed that boy, all the evidence it painting a huge red arrow at him, what am I supposed to tell Lindsay?"

Nick flexed his jaw and thought for a moment before he spoke. "Cath, you don't know that for sure, but, even if, your dad isn't you."

She studied him for a moment, "I never said that."

He smiled, "you didn't have to, I know that's what you're worried about most, people putting you two in the same basket."

She bit back tears. Nick was so observant; he actually paid attention when no one else did. It was like he could read her thoughts.

"Catherine," he paused, "you are an amazing woman, you're strong and smart, a great mother, a fan-fucking-tastic CSI and knockout."

With that last comment she beamed, and they laughed together.

"There's not an ounce of that man in you, innocent or not, you are your own person, and even if some asshole says different, and believe me if they ever did they'd be hearing from me, you and I both know different."

She couldn't help but smile; somehow the world didn't seem so black and distant. Nick had managed to pull her up yet again.

"Nicky, you always know how to make a lady smile."

He laughed a deep gentle laugh, his eyes lighting up.

"It's my specialty."

--

"Everyone thinks I'm a fuck up Nick." Warrick said with exhaustion in his voice.

Nick stopped processing and looked at his friend.

"Who said that? I'll kick their ass." Nick said jokingly.

Warrick smiled and shook his head. "I am a fuck up, even if no one said it, I can't do anything right."

Nick turned to face Warrick now; taking note of how weary his eyes looked.

"You have a problem man, and you know that, but the best part about it is that you _know it_. The fact that you own up to your mistakes is just about the manliest thing a guy can do."

Warrick looked at Nick with doubt in his eyes.

"Look I know you think I'm feeding you bullshit, but when have I ever lied to you?"

_Never_, Warrick thought.

"What happened with Holly, that was pretty heavy, there's nothing I can do or say that will make that go away for you, but what I will tell you is that you are not a fuck up. Sure you may be a _screw_ up, but not a _fuck_ up."

Nick smiled and Warrick laughed.

"You are a lot stronger than people give you credit for, and I know you're going through some stuff I can't understand right now, but I know it won't beat you, and I know in the end, you'll be better for it bro."

_Nick sure could make someone feel like they had a fighting chance_, Warrick thought. Besides Grissom, Nick was the only other person in the lab that didn't think he was worthless. Nick really was his best and only friend. He had his back, and Warrick had his.

"Besides, you suck at gambling anyway," they laughed together now, "now hand me that bloody shoe before we have to hug in front of the whole lab."

--

Even though the position was null and void due to funding cutbacks, Grissom had still recommended him over Sara for the promotion. It was a feeling of pride he hadn't felt in a long, long time. He had stood his ground, defended his beliefs and points of view, and came out on top. All his hard work and effort had paid off, not so much literally as personally.

Sara had been Grissom's go to golden girl. But even with all that, everything he believed in stood for something. He wasn't just some big hearted sap like everyone thought he was. He was a CSI by god, and an excellent one at that.

He felt good, really good for the first time in a while. He knew who he was, he knew his moral ground, and he knew where he stood. Nothing in the world could make him falter in his beliefs, he was his own man and it felt good being recognized for it.

Little did he know how easily and completely his crystal palace of confidence and self-worth would be destroyed, how it would shatter, cutting everyone around him, and all the while slicing him deeper than any mortal wound.


	10. Trisha

_some months ago_

--

"I was kidnapped, and buried alive, left to die, I almost killed myself, I cried like a bitch and was so useless I couldn't save myself, I had to lay there suffocating in the dirt being chewed on by ants crying waiting for someone to save me. That's who I am," he paused and then laughed a laugh of defeat, "Don't wanna fuck me now do ya?"

That last bit was meant to be a jab, at her or at himself who knew.

Trisha looked into nick's weary brown eyes. She could see pain and sorrow in them, helplessness. She could see that he was giving up, giving in, and letting go. She knew the instant she met him that he wasn't who he was pretending to be. She didn't know if he could sense it or not, or if that was the reason he decided to knock a hole in his carefully constructed wall.

"Nick, I don't know you very well," she paused, "I don't know you at all actually, but that doesn't sound like something you are more than something that happened to you."

His face went blank. Why was she still sitting here in his car with him? Why was she not running away, thinking him crazy or stupid or just plain weird and no longer desirable?

"Ya know, I think I heard about what happened to you on the news, as a matter of fact I did," she placed a firm yet gentle hand on his, "I didn't know it was you but, I remember thinking to myself, _if that were me, I wouldn't have made it, I would have died in the ground, God bless whoever the brave soul was that crawled out of that Hell to live another day_."

_Bullshit_, he thought. But why? Why was it bullshit? She had called it Hell, how could she know? Why was he fighting against himself so fiercely?

She smiled warmly, and with that smile his face softened, his shoulders relaxed and for the first time in a long time, he felt relieved. Someone knew, and they didn't judge him, they didn't expect him to act a certain way, Trisha was content with just letting him be. She could tell the moment he met her, he knew it. Something in him knew it and he figured that's why he blurted it out. His subconscious decided not to try and hide with her because she already knew.

"Do you want to come in? I understand if you don't, but, I'd love your company," he smiled at her, "and as attractive as you are, it's not just because I want to "_fuck you_" as you put it." She smiled back.

_Who was this angel_? He thought. Maybe life didn't suck so badly after all, and if he could open up to this woman, maybe in time he could open up to the team a little more, open up to himself a little more.

He didn't indeed "_fuck her_" that night, or the next time he saw her. It wasn't until they met again for the third time that things got intimate. And he didn't just have sex with Patricia Heeley, they connected, made love if you will. She listened to him, cared about his words; she wasn't just waiting for her turn to speak. If a complete stranger could possible love him even after all he'd been through, maybe anything was possible.

--

It was a scorching hot day in Vegas. He had gotten a call about a nasty five car pile up on highway 95 out of town. Cops couldn't begin to know what had happened and in what order. Nick, Sara, Warrick and Sophia were called to the scene; Brass was already waiting for them there. As Nick and Sara climbed out of his Chevy he could see the damage already. This was going to be a long, hot and nasty day.

"Whatcha got for us Jim?" Sara asked as they walked to the wreckage.

"Pretty much what you see is what you get. We've got a lot of bodies, in and out of the cars, some burned, some damaged so badly we're probably gonna have to send for dentals, all dead. We can't really make heads or tails of it all, the semi in the middle there is throwing things off a bit."

Brass then proceeded to ramble off a list of the people in order of discovery using hair color, approximate age, and gender. Nick didn't really listen to him, he missed it when Brass had said "_Caucasian female, mid thirties, brown hair appearing to have missed most of the physical damage, but having died from a broken neck_."

Nick walked up to the scene running on auto pilot like he usually did nowadays when he had a scene this big to process. It was then he noticed the back of a silver Acura Integra. It peaked his interest at first but what clenched the deal was the sticker in the back window. It was a pink palmetto tree and crescent moon, the symbol from the South Carolina state flag. Trisha was a Carolina girl.

It was at that moment that something inside him broke. He didn't fall to his knees and scream, or ask God why, he didn't cuss or cry, he casually walked up to the totaled car that had become one with a family SUV. The door was open; paramedics probably thought she was still alive since she looked untouched. She was leaning out of the car, held in by her seat belt. She was still and angel. Her long silky brown hair was blowing lightly in the hot desert breeze. His jaw clenched. He squatted down next to her and without thinking ran his fingers through her hair.

Sara came up behind him. "What are you doing?" she scolded, "do you know her?"

Nick sighed, "No, no I don't." He lied.

"Then what's with the touchy feely?" He really hated Sara nowadays; she never could just shut the hell up and leave well enough alone.

"It's just a shame, a damn shame that something this beautiful…" he trailed off. Then without another word, he stood and walked away, never finishing his sentence.

With every step he took, ever bit of sanity he owned fell away. Nick Stokes was gone.


	11. Do or Die

He kept seeing that poor girls face. He kept seeing her struggling for air. Just because he did it didn't mean he didn't feel bad about it. He was sitting across the street from Sophia Curtis' house. Darkness consumed his vehicle. He was a ghost. The only street light was well over half a mile away. He had the window cracked; cool night air seeped in ever so often. The stereo was turned down low, playing Led Zeppelin's, No Quarter. It was a soft and slow song, mellow, just like his mood.

He'd been warring with himself for an hour and an half now. Go to her and maybe get some closure, maybe have someone on his side again, or go to her and watch her reject him, or worse yet, die.

Everything he touched turned to shit as of late. But there was just something about her, something that seemed to be driving him. Of all the CSI's he worked along side, he knew the least about her, and she the least about him. Maybe that's why she was so appealing. She tugged at him, at his mind, daresay his heart?

He smoothed his hair for the 23rd time since he'd been sitting in the car. He'd begun counting. He'd screamed Sophia's name when he was choking that poor girl, what if he did the same to the real thing?

_No_, he said to himself_, no that wasn't me, that was someone else, the darkness_. But, it was him. It was a part of him that he had been treating like another person entirely.

Whatever part of him that was, one of them had just decided that it was do or die time, although what he was about to do could have been both.

He exited the Chevy, removed the keys and locked the door. He straightened his black button up shirt, adjusted his pants and smoothed his hair. _Twenty four_, he counted. Then before he could protest himself he started for Sophia's darkened door step. Long graceful strides landed him in front of her house and with three solid knocks; he'd chosen a path that would now no longer be reversible.

He hadn't heard her coming to the door, but a moment later, there she stood. Her hair perfectly brushed falling over her shoulders. She was wearing a black cotton wife beater and snugly fitting blue jeans complete with bare feet. To his surprise, she didn't seem to be shocked at his appearance, as if she knew it would happen eventually. They stared at one another, sizing each other up. Sophia spoke first, as usual.

"Agent Stokes." She said plainly, she used his formal title, it stung a bit.

"Sophia," he regarded her, "may I come in?"

She studied him for a moment, as if she might just tell him no. Finally after what seemed like a life time, she stepped aside and let him pass swiftly through her door, she took note of his Chevy parked across the road in the darkness before she closed the door behind them.

She guided Nick into the living room and motioned for him to take a seat on the couch. The room was nice, very simple, muted colors, the only thing that stood out was the wholly glass coffee table in front of him. She left him for a moment before returning with two glasses full of iced tea. She offered him one and then took a seat in a chair angled to the left of him, setting her glass down next to her.

They stared at one another for a while, the silence stretched on for ages. Then, once more, Sophia spoke first.

"How've you been Nick, and don't feed me some shit or try to pass it off as nothing."

He flexed his jaw; he knew this wasn't going to be easy.

"I've not been very well Sophia," he paused, trying to figure out exactly what he would tell her and what he would keep to himself for both their sakes, "you could say, I've been falling apart, but, I think I'm already in pieces."

It was truth, the tight feeling in his chest started to ease, only slightly.

She looked at him with understanding, "go on, I've nothing to say that's more important than anything you have to, I'd like to listen to everything you want to tell me." She spoke smoothly, her voice accented and low. She waited for him to continue.

The soft track lighting in the room made everything feel warm. He set his tea down on the glass table and sat up a little straighter. _Do or die_, he told himself, _do it and not die, or do it and she may_. He had begun to think that he had a curse that killed everyone he got close to, everyone he confided in. It was a chance he would have to take.

"I've done some bad things Sophie," he started, "I've done some things I'm not proud of. And I've never been ashamed of any moment in my life until now." He was on a roll now, it was coming out of him like smoke, rolling off his tongue and filling the air around them.

"I don't want to talk about the things I've done, specifically," he paused, looking at her to see if she was still calm and attentive.

"You don't have to, go on."

He closed his eyes. "It's like I'm another person. People have asked me, _how I could have doubted I'd survive, knowing that the team was on the case_. It's one thing to know that they are good, and quite another to be put in the position to trust that knowledge with your life."

He fidgeted with his hands.

"It was dark after I shot out that light. I had a chem light, but, all it did was remind me that beyond that green glow, there was nothing but darkness for me. I recorded a tape for when I died, looking back I bet it sounds stupid," he laughed, "those fucking ants, living in Texas, they're everywhere but, they were eating me, it was as if they knew I was already dead."

He stopped for a moment. They sat in silence before he continued.

"I cried, I cried hard, I beat and punched that damn box until my knuckles bled, until I couldn't move anymore. Then after a lifetime of screaming, I laid there and let them eat me. I didn't care anymore. I knew I wasn't going to see anyone again, I knew I wasn't going to see the stars again, I knew I wasn't going to hear anyone's voice again, the last voice I'd hear was the guy on the tape's." He lifted his glass and sipped the tea Sophia had given him, and then gently set it back down before starting again.

"It was over for me, so I picked up that gun, it was heavier than anything I'd ever held, and I put it to my chin, I sobbed, but, inside it was ok, I had accepted it. I decided that the last thing I would do was take control of the situation and do it myself. I felt the cold metal on my burning skin, I felt my heart beating in my ears, and just before I pulled the trigger, just before I carried out my decision, it was all over, and like some fairy tale I was saved at the last moment."

A tear fell down his handsome face. Sophia wanted desperately to wipe it from his cheek, but she decided to let him finish.

"It was a cruel joke, it was unfair. I was angry that I didn't get to pull that fucking trigger. I had already accepted it, and even though you guys found me, a large part of me already died. I walk around everyday, with that dead part of me weighing me down. It's still in the ground, the live part, it's still buried, and I'm carrying around the dead weight while the soul is miles away."

It made sense to her. It gave her some sort of understanding. She hadn't really gotten why he was so distant, she always thought to herself that if it were her, she'd live every day after it like it was her last, and smile all the while. But now hearing what actually happened to him, not physically, but mentally, spiritually, she understood why it was so hard. She questioned if she would have gotten out of that box alive.

"It makes sense now," she started to say after sitting in silence, letting what he said soak in, "I never understood, before."

He looked at her with defeat written on his troubled face. His dark eyes were glistening with tears. They were flowing freely now.

"You don't know how honored I am, how, special I feel that you told me, that you decided to choose me, but, why?"

It was an honest question.

"Because I suppose you don't know me as well as the others. I figured, in some warped way, that you might not judge me, like I feel they all do. Maybe you wouldn't sugar coat things, because you aren't as close to me as they are. But, even so, I want to be close to you."

The weight in his chest had lifted so much that he couldn't understand how he managed to walk around with it all day.

"Sophia, you're beautiful, and talented, and, well you're all the things that I use to be, you remind me so much of myself…" he trailed off. He didn't know what he was saying now; he didn't know how to finish that last sentence.

He didn't have to.

Sophia gracefully stood up and took a few steps until she was standing in front of Nick. He leaned back on the couch looking up at her with his tear stained face. She reached out and laid a slender warm hand on his worried face and with her touch he closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. It was then that she leaned forward, bent down and placed both knees on either side of him on the couch. She was straddling him now, eye to eye with him, and with her thumbs she wiped away his tears.

His eyes focused and the sorrow he felt was soon replaced with desire. He had wanted this for far longer than he could remember now. Even before he was buried alive he had wanted her, and now, she was there, sitting in his lap, accepting him, wanting him just as much.

She leaned forward and paused just before their lips met, she could feel his breath on her mouth, and then all time stood still, they kissed. It was slow at first, gentle and soft, but as they continued it became more fervent and needy. His hands were tangled in her hair; her hands were frantically unbuttoning his shirt. Finally they both had to come up for air.

They stared at each other hard, their eyes speaking to one another. She stood and unbuttoned her jeans, then slowly slipped them over her hips and onto the floor, stepping out of them. The pause lasted only a moment as he then reached out and grasped her by the hips bringing her crashing back to his lap. She was kissing him again and all the while Nick was undoing his pants.

He had eased them down just enough for comfort as she rose up and then lowered herself onto him. Their gaze never broke as he hissed and she let out a deep moan. It was something that he hadn't felt since Kristy Hopkins, it was release, it was pleasure and joy and warmth and light and everything he had been missing for all those horrible long months.

She was moving steady now, his large rough hands on her soft smooth hips. He kissed her neck and nipped her here and there, lifting her shirt up to suck on the smooth skin of her breasts. It was heaven.

She tossed her long golden hair and threw her head back as they quickened their pace. The time for patience was over for them both, they wanted release now! Nick pushed up and she slammed down. Ever so often she would shout "Nick!" and he would smile. They were both going mad, faster and faster, loosing themselves in each other. Nick was finally letting go, finally feeling free.

With a few more frantic thrusts she screamed his name and seized up around him, not a moment later he let out a yell and came just as hard.

It was a moment in time he didn't want to let go of quickly. After they both relaxed she slumped forward laying her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his strong arms around her and laid his head on hers. He wasn't about to let her go.

He finally did something right, he thought to himself, he was finally going somewhere other than down. He didn't care what he had to do; he would fight tooth and nail to keep Sophia. She was his everything now, and he hoped like hell that if he wasn't hers at this moment, that soon he would be.

After taking a moment to rest, they rose from the couch trying to collect themselves. But pleasantries and small talk wouldn't be had this night. Before they could stand properly they were both tangled in each others arms and stumbling to her bedroom. It was going to be a long, glorious night.

Nothing else in the world mattered to either of them.


	12. The Things You Know

He woke slowly the next morning instead of the usual jolt. Contrary to being disoriented like he usually was, wondering where he was even when he was in his own home, he knew exactly where he was. He was in Sophia Curtis' bed. The room was dimly lit, dark curtains filtering the bright sunlight. He was glad for it. He drew a long deep breath and her scent filled his lungs. Smiling he turned over to her.

She wasn't there.

Immediately panic shot through him, he was no longer groggy and listless, he was wide awake.

"Sophia!" he called out loudly. He waited a moment, no answer.

Swiftly he stood, not bothering to clothe himself, and headed out of the room, down the hall and to the kitchen. Then almost as quickly as it had come his worry left him. There was a note. He let out a sigh of relief. What was he thinking anyway? It was her house; it wasn't like she was going to be plucked out of bed, especially while he was here. He laughed at himself, after last night he was still paranoid. He supposed it would take more time for some things than others.

_Nicky, I went out to get us some breakfast, I'll be back soon. Love, Sophia_.

He smirked, she'd called him Nicky. He laid the paper down and looked around. He hadn't the chance to really survey the place last night, being otherwise preoccupied. He opened the fridge and decided he would have a glass of orange juice. The cold washed over his nude body, he shivered. After his drink he'd get dressed he thought, she should be back by the time he was finished.

Wearing only his jeans he surveyed the marks on his broad muscular back. His smile grew with each mark he discovered. These marks he could be proud of. He then pulled on his shirt and buttoned it. After tucking it in and smoothing his hair with some water, he decided he was as good as he would get. He didn't really know why he was dressing anyway; he figured it wouldn't take long for his clothes to be back on the floor after she returned home.

It was then that he heard his phone; it was a text from work. Frowning he fumbled around the room trying to find where it had landed last night. Finally he located it and flipped it open.

_Code 444, emergency, officer in need of assistance. 1456 East Owens Ave._

"Fuck," he cursed. _Of all times, why now_? Code 444, that was pretty heavy. It must be pretty serious if he was getting the message. He figured Sophia would get the call as well. As much as he hated it, he would have to leave before she got back, if she wasn't already on her way there. He plucked a piece of paper from the same pad she wrote her note on and jotted down a message.

_Sophie, gone to the 444, meet you there or meet here later, I'll call you if I don't see you, Love, Nicky._

He placed his note beside hers, and reluctantly left the house and headed to the scene.

--

"NICK!" Catherine shouted. She ran up to his Chevy before he had time to properly get out.

"What? What's wrong?" Besides the obvious, an officer was in danger; there really wasn't the need for her to be panicked like she was. They were taught to stay calm in these situations, and besides, the CSI's were only there to survey the place after all the action had gone down.

"Nick, I just wanted to say I'm sorry first off, for what I said the other night, you didn't need all that grief." He honestly couldn't have cared less anymore; it was all part of a past he was starting to forget, with Sophia's help.

"What brought that up at a time like this?" he stared at Catherine, his dark brown eyes trying to make sense of it.

"I just wanted you to know that, I didn't want anything I did weighing on your mind, because," she paused. He nodded to coach her on, "because it's about Sophia."

Nick's face dropped, and his heart along with it.

"Nick, Sophia is being held hostage, I just, I thought it would be a lot to handle, and I know you two aren't that close but, I didn't know how you would take it."

_Weren't that close_? Nick laughed to himself, _if you only knew Cath_.

"Wha…" he stopped and swallowed, trying to catch his breath, "what happened, what's the situation?" He tried to keep it cool, but his jaw had started to flex, his eyes narrowing, anger taking place of shock.

"She was on her way back from getting breakfast as far as we can tell, there was food in her car," she motioned to Sophia's Denali, "she stopped here to get gas, but she walked in on a robbery in progress and the guy saw the badge on her belt and panicked is what we figure, he's demanding things, he figures we'll be more compliant with her on the other end of his gun."

Nick wasn't upset; he wasn't hurt, he was furious. His brow furrowed and he began to grind his teeth. Catherine took a step back. He could see the rest of the team, they were all at the front of the police tape, even Grissom was there. He had begun to hear his heart beating in his ears, he was clenching his fists, his arms flexing, his chest was tight.

"Not again," he said, "not again, I won't let it happen."

Catherine looked at him puzzled, "What? What won't happen again? Nicky, Nicky what are you doing?" she was calling after him but he had already started to walk to the others. He pushed past Warrick and Greg, stopping just behind the tape.

"Hey man, what gives?" Warrick asked.

Nick didn't answer; it was about that time when the masked man pushed the door open to the gas station, shoving Sophia out first. She stumbled then regained her footing, holding her hands up in the air beside her head, and then the gunman emerged behind her, holding what looked like a Desert Eagle to the back of her head. The instant he saw her his whole body relaxed. It was humbling seeing the person he cared for most in this world, so close, but so far away.

"NICK!" she shouted when she saw him. Her face lit up. Nick smiled. He would find some way to get her out of this, even if it cost him his useless life.

"Shut the fuck up bitch!" the gunman cursed at Sophia, putting the barrel of the gun to her head and shoving.

Nick's anger rose again. _That son of a bitch is going to regret the day he was born_, Nick thought to himself.

"Sophia," he felt helpless, "Sophia it's gonna be alright." It was all he could manage to say. It would be, but he hadn't quite figured out how.

"No the fuck it won't asshole now shut the fuck up before I blow this bitch's fucking head off!" He shoved her again with the gun and this time it must have hurt because she let out a small cry.

"Hey man," Nick called to the gunman who was about 10 yards away now, "there's no need to get violent, we're all adults here, we're makin' sure you're gonna get what you want, how 'bout we calm down and talk about this." It was the most generic negotiation speech in the world, but with the emotions running through him at that moment, it was all he could do not to rush the guy and pound his face into the pavement.

"I'm sure you are, because I know you wouldn't fucking lie to me, I know you wouldn't want to be cleanin' this bitch's brains off the fucking ground." The guy wouldn't let up.

It was all his fault, that was all Nick could tell himself. If he had stayed away from her instead of being selfish, she wouldn't have even been out here today, she'd be at home safe in her bed, safe from him.

He had to think of something fast.

"Hey man, did you know that I'm the head of the department?" Nick lied through his pearly white teeth. All eyes were on him now, the whole team, about fifty spectators, and even a news van or two, the situation had been escalating.

"Why the fuck should I care?" the gunman said.

"Well, because she's a rookie, that's why, don't you think you'd get more compliance if you had a guy like me in front of that gun and not some no good newbie?"

The gunman paused for a moment.

"What the hell are you doing Nick?" Grissom hissed in his ear.

"I'm doing something right for once." Nick hissed back.

"Why the fuck do you care about her then, if she's so useless?" The gunman was taking slow steps forward.

"Well, imagine how it looks on me if one of my rookies gets shot, makes me look bad ya know, and, that way you know you'll be getting your demands met."

The gunman eased forward a few steps more.

"How do I know that for sure?" he asked.

"Do you think I'd put myself out there to get shot if I knew they weren't gonna deliver?" Nick was using his newly acquired skill of bullshitting with all his might and it seemed to be working.

"I think I like that plan," the gunman said, "how we gonna do this?" he asked.

Nick looked at the rest of the team; he nodded as if reassuring them it was going to be fine. Then facing forward, he took a long look at Sophia. She was crying now, tears silently rolled down her face. She shook her head slightly as if saying, _no, please Nick don't, I'll be alright._

"I'm gonna walk to you, and at the same time, you let her go and she'll walk back here." Nick motioned to the police tape. The sun was beating down on them; he was sweating bullets, hoping and praying to God that this jerk off would just listen.

"Look, I'm putting my gun down man; I ain't even trying to have any trouble." Nick un-holstered his gun and laid it in the dirt.

The gunman paused, and after what seemed like an eternity, he agreed.

"On my count of three?" Nick asked.

The gunman nodded. Nick began to slowly count, and on three he stepped forward under the tape.

"Walk bitch," the gunman ordered Sophia.

They began to walk toward each other, both with their hands in the air. Tears flowing freely down Sophia's beautiful face, her long blonde hair blowing in the wind. Nick's jaw was set; he kept his eyes on hers until they passed one another. He breathed her in as they passed. He closed his eyes, and for a moment the world faded away. Then the opened them, his eyes narrowing on the gunman. He heard Sophia cry out as the team embraced her behind him, but he dared not look back.

"Nick!" she shouted. He ignored her, focusing on the man's gun that was trained on his chest, waiting for that perfect moment when he could wrench it out of his hands. "Nick, I," she paused, "I love you!"

He didn't have the time to register her words. Before he knew what was happening a window shattered in the store behind the gunman causing him to turn in reflex. Nick seized the opportunity to lunge for the gun. The gunman turned just in time to see Nick's hands grasping his. He instinctively pulled the trigger but the shot went high. They struggled with one other for a moment before it became apparent that Nick was much stronger, but just when he thought he had the gun and was in control, Nick stumbled backwards, pulling the gunman down with him.

A shot rang out, this time it didn't miss. The crowd gasped, he heard screaming, people running everywhere. Above it all he could hear Sophia shrieking his name, his head felt hot, and his chest tight.

He took a few short breaths and then the world around him went black.


	13. The Things You Don't

He could hear sirens, see lights, he felt cold, his head was pounding, but above it all, he could hear Sophia. Her calm accented voice instructing him that everything was going to be alright. He thought he remembered smiling, but he blacked out yet again.

He felt heavy. He opened his eyes gingerly, letting the light in a bit at a time. He was in the hospital; he could smell that familiar sterile hospital smell. Sure the lab smelled clean and sterile, but the hospital had its own smell, he hated it. His head was warm; he reached up to feel it wrapped with gauze, his hair sticking up in places. He figured he looked like an idiot.

He looked over to see Greg of all people slouched over in a chair beside the bed. His mouth was wide open as he slept in what looked like the most uncomfortable position he could imagine.

_I'm not dead_, he thought to himself, _where's Sophia_?

He picked up a cup sitting on a table tray next to his bed and drank the contents, his mouth was dry. Then he threw the cup at Greg. It bounced off his head and Greg jumped out of his seat. After orienting himself he smiled a goofy smile at Nick.

"Hey man, you're awake!" he exclaimed.

Nick could hear shuffling outside the room door. Warrick, Sara and Catherine filed in all looking terribly exhausted.

"Hey Nicky," Catherine said, he could hear the love and concern in her voice. She stood beside his bed and placed a warm hand on his.

"Hey guys, what's going on? Where's Sophia?" everyone glanced at one another.

"She's fine Nick," Sara spoke, "she's been sitting by your bed since you got here, we made her go home and sleep."

"How long have I been here?" he asked, he had so many questions.

"Two days," Warrick said.

"Wow," was all Nick could say.

"You took a nasty fall Nicky," Catherine spoke, "you smashed your head pretty badly, cracked your skull actually, you had to go in for surgery, you lost a lot of blood, we thought you were gonna leave us for a while there."

They explained that the shot had hit the gunman in the neck, severing his spinal cord and killing him instantly. Nick had fallen backwards, slamming his head on the corner of a concrete parking block.

He could see the compassion written on their faces. He had put them through it again. The worry and wait. He hated having to do it, but given a choice, he would have done it again just the same, all for Sophia.

"You know me, if I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna do it big." He joked with a smile. They all smiled with him. He felt horrible now for how he had treated them that night at the diner. It was only a week ago, but it seemed like a lifetime.

"Guys, I'm sorry for how I've been acting, I know you all care about me, I was just going through a lot of things, things I couldn't explain, I never meant to hurt anyone." He stopped, tears welling up in his eyes. He'd been so stupid, hurt so many people, all those girls, that one in particular, his team, himself.

"Nick," Warrick started, "man, we know, we've all had shit happen to us, nothing as bad as what happened to you, but, we know how it feels to feel alone, we just want you to know we're here for ya, like you've been for all of us."

A tear fell down Nick's face. Everything seemed to be falling into place. All he needed was Sophia. He needed to see her, hear her, and touch her.

"Can someone call Sophia?" He asked.

"I already paged Grissom on the way in here," Sara said, "I gave him strict orders to let her know the first chance he got." She smiled at him.

Sara really did have her moments.

"He's so proud of you Nick," Catherine said, "he'll be in later today to see you, he stayed back so all of us could be here with you."

He missed his time with Grissom; he would have to do a lot of catching up when he got out of here.

"So I guess that answers my question about who you were dating." Greg said, smiling like a dork.

"Greg!" everyone said in unison. Warrick slapped him lightly upside the back of his head.

Greg cowered down holding his head, "What? What'd I say?"

Nick smiled, "That reminds me," he began, "Ecklie isn't going to like it when he hears, if he hasn't already."

Catharine smiled warmly at him, "He can _not like_ it all he wants, you aren't her superior, nor is she yours, so you guys can do what you like, there's nothing he or anyone else can do about it."

Nick felt relieved. He knew the team would understand, he couldn't remember why he doubted they would ever understand anything in the first place. Sophia had said she loved him. Could she? It seemed so soon, but, he felt strongly about her as well. Was it love? He was sure he would know when he saw her.

The next half hour was spent bullshitting and joking, the nurse came in to check his stats and scolded the team for getting Nick so worked up when he needed his rest. It was a great feeling, one that he had missed for so long now, the feeling of belonging. He loved the team, each of them in his own way. But one in particular he desired most. As if on cue she appeared in the doorway, silently, the team only noticed her when they saw Nick's eyes fix on her. Without another word they filed out of the room, shutting the door behind them, leaving him alone with her.

"Sophia," Nick said, a smile spreading across his handsome face.

"Hey cowboy," she said back. She regarded him with compassion. Gracefully she strode to his bedside. "I got your note." She smiled.

He laughed softly, his head faintly pounding. She reached out and touched his face with slender fingers. He lifted his hand to hers and held it there. Then he motioned for her to climb into bed beside him, she lowered the rail and stretched out next to him, mindful of the cords.

They lay there for a while, touching each other, him stroking her hair, her planting light kisses on his hands. The pain in his head was distant now.

"I meant it," she said, breaking the silence, "I wanted to say it the other night, but, I didn't have the courage." She looked up into his eyes.

"I didn't know if you were ready to hear it, I know it sounds sudden but, I've always admired you Nick, all the years I've worked with you, I always felt you were special somehow, I knew you were going to be the death of me." she smiled.

"I thought I was going to lose you Sophie," he said, trying not to cry.

"I thought I was going to lose you too." she said, letting the tears fall.

"I wanna tell you something," he said, "something I never told anyone."

With that he told her about Kristy Hopkins, even if he wasn't in love with her, her death still hurt him deep. Then he told her about Patricia Heeley, and about the day they were called out to the crash. She had been there, but now she knew why he was the way he was, why he was so reluctant to open up, why he had put himself in harms way for her, he didn't want to lose another one. He didn't want to lose the one he cared about most. They cried, and held each other.

She was a serious agent, no nonsense, straight forward; she kept her demons to herself just as Nick had. But now she had a new purpose, someone who needed her. Nick had been a heartfelt scientist. He had been compassionate before that day, and after it he had died inside. A little here and there, more and more with each day, until finally he thought he was at the edge of a cliff and turning back wasn't an option. But now he had something to live for, someone to live for, someone who could depend on him, someone who loved him, someone who wasn't going to disappear.

All the dark and horrible things he had done faded away. He would certainly not forget them; he would remember his actions for the rest of his life. But now those dark deeds weren't the only thing he had to dwell on, he wasn't trapped inside himself anymore. He was finally free of that coffin. He had climbed out and into her arms, into his friends' arms.

He had faced death, more times than any one person should, each time something in him changed. From the first time he had had a gun held to his head to the last, he had overcome it all. Maybe he hadn't shown the most grace and strength during his brushes with the reaper, but he always survived. Like he had told Warrick once, he was going through things that other people couldn't understand, but in the end he was better for it. His soul felt complete now. There were no more pieces of him scattered over Las Vegas. None of him was in that coffin, none of him was lying dead on Highway 95 with Trisha, and none of him was in that poor girl's bedroom. He was whole again.

He was Nick Stokes, a big hearted cowboy from Texas who stood by his resolve. Nothing would stop him now.


End file.
